He awoke to a flickering test pattern and a dog’s bark. He had made popcorn, then sat down to watch Saturday Night Live, and had fallen asleep with the large bowl of popcorn on his lap. Now the bowl was empty and he imagined that Hudley had crept up upon him and had finished it off because the usual ample supply of congealed butter had vanished from the bowl’s bottom; an easy solution to a puzzle that might present a mystery to someone with less wit. His father had gone from small town police chief to crack detective in Minneapolis. It might somehow be in his own blood to become a great detective. That would certainly be changing his future in a single fell swoop. The steps on the porch had to be Diana’s because Hudley was madly wiggling his bottom and dogs recognized steps. Could a man learn to recognize steps? Probably, if he sufficiently attuned his senses, heretofore atrophied by sloth and self-indulgence. There was an electric coolness in his head as Diana burst in the door. She kissed him, per usual.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. I called but no one answered. I hope you weren’t worried.”

“What time did you call?”

“About an hour and a half ago. I have some exciting …”

“I was walking the dog,” he interrupted. The fact is the phone never woke him.

“I got some exciting news. Doctor Rabun called this morning at the hospital for your resumé. I drove home at lunch and picked it up, then dropped it off after work.”

“Three hours is quite the drop-off.”

“I went in for a drink. There was a couple there from France and we talked a long time.”

“I’ll bet.”

“He wants to meet you tomorrow at nine to talk about a job.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” he said blankly. “We usually sleep in and sort of fool around.”

“Johnny, why are you being so difficult? This is a rare opportunity.”

He got up and flicked the TV dial to tune in the remains of Melvoin’s Creature Feature on Channel 29, then walked into the kitchen. His mood was still coolish but things were changing so fast that he needed a drink. “What does he need, someone to paint a boat, or wash a car?” he called from the kitchen, affecting Travis McGee’s laconic cynicism. Diana walked to the bathroom without looking at him.

“He wants a troubleshooter,” she said, slamming the door and turning on the shower.